


Marry Me

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, John listens, M/M, Mind Palace, Sherlock's talking to himself, there are confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock lets out some secrets when he's talking aloud, and John listens in before making some confessions of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry Me

**Author's Note:**

> From a [Tumblr prompt](http://lovefushsia.tumblr.com/post/148149557920/blasphemy-sex-solves-everything-and-marry).

“We need to talk.”

John had just set foot into the living room and he hesitated by the door. “We do?”

Sherlock sat cross-legged on the rug, head in his hands as he spoke again in a quiet voice. “Recently, I’ve felt this... pull towards you... it’s ridiculous I know, unreasonable, foolish.”

“Oh... okaaay,” John drew out, not able to remember ever before hearing a sentence that had elated and crushed him so quickly. He sat down heavily on the arm of the sofa.

“And yet I feel it, when you’re there and when you’re not.”

“Sherlock... I-”

“I must address it, I must. I need to understand these emotions.” Sherlock shook his head a little but remained with his head lowered and John didn’t move. “I don’t know how it happened, but it did, and it keeps happening and each time it takes a greater hold and I can’t stop myself needing to be near to you, needing to hear your voice.” Sherlock went on, clearly talking to himself and John knew he should move, stop listening, but he couldn’t. Sherlock talked, working through his emotions, feelings John would never have dreamed his friend would have. His heart swelled at Sherlock’s words until the realisation that he actually didn’t know that Sherlock was talking about him, about John. If he was in his mind palace or even just thinking aloud, he could have someone in mind that wasn’t John. And John was flooded with cold jealousy faster than he would have thought possible ten minutes ago.  

The idea made him stand and he tiptoed to the door intending to go drown himself in a few large whiskeys in the pub. And then he tuned into his friend’s words again and stopped still.

“...just yesterday I watched you brush aside Gary’s compliment on the case. You should have taken it John, you deserved it, it was good work. But you always deflect praise.”

John watched Sherlock wave a hand in front of his face and then throw his head back until he was resting against the sofa. He still had his eyes closed so John stayed in the doorway to listen. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand why he hadn’t realised at anytime in their friendship that Sherlock may have feelings for him, other than being utterly frustrated by John’s slower mind. Maybe John had quashed his own feelings unnecessarily? Perhaps if he had said something sooner Sherlock wouldn’t be wrestling with his own emotions right now. And he did seem distressed. John wondered about interrupting him - disturbing him in his mind palace wasn’t usually a good plan at all. And he really didn’t want to stop his friend’s stream of consciousness. He tried to calm himself as Sherlock’s words hit him.

He took a deep breath and before he could stop himself the words “Marry me,” had escaped in a quiet but clear tone.

Sherlock’s eyes flew open in an instant and he stared straight at John as he shot out, “What?”

“What?” John said, confused, suddenly terrified, knowing that the desire behind his words was very real. But he was ready to deny it depending on his friend’s reaction. He took a step back in the face of Sherlock’s death glare.

“You said something,” Sherlock accused pointing a long finger at John.

“Erm... no, I didn’t,” John tried.

“Yes, you did,” Sherlock said, getting to his feet.

John retreated further but he didn’t shift his eyes from Sherlock’s. Somehow he made the decision to test the water a little further. “You were... um... talking. To yourself. I think. Did you realise?”

“I was in my mind palace...” Sherlock started and John’s heart sank, again. What if he’d been playing out something in his head, hadn’t meant any of it in relation to John, despite what he had said.

“You were there.”

“I was?” John asked cautiously.

Sherlock waved the question away. “You often are John, your presence helps to clear my head. But you said something.” He closed his eyes again, pressed two fingers to his temple. “You said ‘Mary’,” he murmured. “Why would you have brought her up,” he looked back to John and his eyes were sad. “I thought you were over it? It’s been six months-”

 “No,” John cut him off. “I didn’t say her name.”

“You didn’t? But you did say something.”

John nodded and waited a beat. And then they both spoke at once. “Marry me.”

Sherlock’s intake of breath afterwards was audible and his frown was deeper than ever. “That’s what you said,” he whispered.

John nodded again, rooted to the spot now, tentative, urgently wanting to run and desperately needing to stay. “Yes... yes.”

“Why?” Well, _there_ was a question.

_I was thinking aloud. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m not gay._

He couldn’t get to any good words for a moment. He swallowed hard, willing himself to stand firm - this was fine, just a conversation. Nothing bad was going to happen. Finally, he settled on the truth. “Because I’ve always meant to ask, and now seemed a good time.” He held his breath. His head started to spin. Sherlock stared at him.

John should have known. How was he ever meant to understand this when he could barely hear the word ‘friend’ without flinching? John slowly moved around him and sat down on the sofa. He could wait. He was fine. Absolutely fi-

“Me?” Sherlock said. “You asked me to marry you?” John nodded as soon as Sherlock turned to look him in the eye. “And you meant it?”

“I did. I’m sorry I listened to you talking but I’m not sorry I heard what you said.” After a moment he added, “Did _you_ mean it?”

Sherlock nodded this time and took the couple of steps to sit beside him on the sofa. “Every word,” he said softly, but there was still an edge to it, as if he was protecting himself in case John wasn’t serious.

John could only think of a couple of ways to persuade him at this point and he chose the option potentially easier than finding more words. He shifted closer until his thigh was pressed against Sherlock’s thigh. His hand dropped lightly onto the muscle of his leg which tensed under his fingers. John cleared his throat and consciously kept his eyes open while he eased himself forward, his gaze flitting between Sherlock’s eyes and his perfect, plump, pink lips. Sherlock was like a statue when John’s mouth met his. He pulled back after a simple touch of lips and they stared at each other. So close and yet quite possibly still on either side of the planet if this was to be Sherlock’s reaction. John took a little breath and huffed it out and the small rush of air seemed to jolt something in his friend.

Sherlock blinked and said, “I-”

John clenched his fingers a little just to remind them both where his hand was. Sherlock’s face coloured as John watched and John tried a smile. He really needed Sherlock to make a move here; he really needed to feel their lips pressed together again.

John felt Sherlock’s hand slide around his back, drawing them ever-so-slowly closer together. John’s breath hitched and he nearly let out a moan as Sherlock asked, “Is this how it should go?”

“Oh God, yes,” he whispered. He leaned in again, pressing his lips to Sherlock’s and felt his friend move closer still, hand clutching at John’s shirt as John slid his free hand up Sherlock’s chest, cupping his cheek while they kissed. John had no idea what he was doing but he was more than happy to have Sherlock join in with it. Sherlock returned the kiss tentatively, as if he was testing a new flavour, tasting something he wasn’t sure of. John wanted to taste and his tongue touched Sherlock’s lip as he thought about it and he drew back, needing to catch his breath, needing to reaffirm that yes, this was Sherlock. His own Sherlock. They were kissing.

And his friend was looking at him, eyes wide, hand still planted against his back. “John,” he whispered.

John didn’t dare move.

“You mean, you...”

John nodded, hoping they were thinking the same thing but fairly sure they couldn’t be because when had kissing or marriage been on the cards for John Watson and Sherlock Holmes? This was about as likely as Mrs Hudson announcing she would stop making Sherlock his tea. And yet...

“How long?” Sherlock asked.

John took the plunge. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you first spoke to me, you idiot.”

Sherlock let out a half cry-half laugh and the crinkles around his eyes and the hand held to his mouth made John want to hold him and never let go. He settled for kissing him again and as he felt Sherlock’s arms tighten around him, as he slipped his own arms around that slender frame, he knew he meant his words wholeheartedly. “Marry me.”


End file.
